Josh's Wedding
by The Chortling Mermaid
Summary: When Drake believes he isn't invited to Josh's wedding, he loses his last bit of sanity and self-control, causing a scene at Josh's most important day of his life thus far.
1. Hiss Hiss

Josh's Wedding

The moment where the bride and groom finally see each other on their wedding day is one of the most precious moments of the event. For Josh, looking at his beautiful bride—highschool sweetheart Mindy Crenshaw—would have been a perfect moment, if it hadn't been for what happened next.

"You're a snake!" A loud voice cut through. The string quartet screeched to a complete and sudden stop. There was a loud collective gasp among the guests. Mr. Crenshaw and Mindy stopped in their tracks.

"Drake, _wait!_" a voice called as none other than the infamous Drake Parker waltzed—stumbled—towards the altar. The voice belonged to no other than his Mexican manager. (Drake is quite the catch in Mexico).

"_No me hagas esto! _You will ruin your entire career! The DUI was enough! Drake—"

"Shut up!" Drake hissed, in the likeness of the rattle snake in front of his own very eyes, Josh Nichols.

The snake that has ruined his life.

"Drake! What on Earth are you doing here?" Mindy exclaimed. "This is _my _wedding and _I _get to choose who comes here!"

Drake ignored her response, knocking his manager into the crowd of stunned guests. They cried out in pain. _Good, _Drake thought. They all deserved it, and more!

"Drake! How could you do this to me?" Josh whispered. "Drake, why are you—" he paused. "Have you been drinking?" Drake responded by spitting liquor directly towards Josh's face. "_HEADACHES!"_

The liquor resembled Bud Light Lime-A-Rita. Josh knows this because this is what Walter would drink every Tuesday night. How could have Drake possibly gotten so wasted on a Lime-A-Rita?

Megan stood up and left, muttering "_boobs" _under her breath. Even she couldn't deal with the sheer immaturity.

Drake stole a violin. He attempted to play it like a guitar. "I NEVER THOUGHT THAT IT'D BE SO SIMPLE BUT—"

Josh could only stare in shock. Here was his well-planned, pristine, nearly-perfect wedding to his partner of 6 years, ruined by his ignorant step-brother.

Walter, meanwhile, proceeded to down another Lime-A-Rita before quietly leaving. Audrey, stunned, (and the only sensible member of the family, it appears) stood from her chair and ran towards Drake and Josh.

"DRAKE!" She ripped the violin out from his hands, breaking it into many pieces. The violinist sobbed. "That's _enough. _I'm calling you a cab. You're such a disappointment." Drake threw a roll of bread at the cellist.

"_He's _the one marrying Mindy!" Drake yelled. Mr. Crenshaw ran over and attempted to wrestle the drunk musician to the ground. Some guests got up and began gathering their things. The pastor checked his watch. Craig and Eric called the local authorities. They had come together. Their wedding was next year, coincidentally on the same date. Although, now they might move it, considering how this day was going for Josh.

Walter was combing his balding hair. It looked worse every day. He was sure Audrey was having an affair with Bruce Windchill. He sighed and in his drunken state, set fire to his hair. "I don't need it anymore." Audrey turned towards her disappointing husband and swiftly sent a text message to her divorce lawyer, noting, _it's time._

People were screaming and fleeing the scene. Drake chuckled. Josh went pale. He looked at Mindy. She threw her veil onto the ground and stomped it into the dirt with the heel of her left shoe.

Mrs. Hayfer, who by the way wasn't invited either, appeared from seemingly nowhere, like a dung beetle. "I hate you, Drake."

"WELL, I HATE YOU, SNAAAKE. _HIISSSSSSS._" Drake spat. Literally spat in the face of his former high school English teacher. "Enjoy mono, bitch!" Drake laughed as Mrs. Hayfer screamed and ran towards the authorities.

The local authorities was running towards Drake. Not only was this failed musician incredibly wasted at his step-brother's wedding, but his own car's headlights weren't turned on. That's one hefty violation, especially since Drake's license was recently suspended. They cornered Drake.

But Drake wasn't going to take it. Not this time. "OUT OF MY WAY!" Drake smacked the authorities with the cello. Drake was tased immediately and escorted to a jail cell.

Josh and Mindy's jaws were both dropped.

"...You may now kiss the bride?" The pastor said. It was his first wedding. He forgot about literally everything else he was supposed to say.

J.W.

Drake had finally sobered up in his cell. He had been to prison quite a few times as a teenager, and even a few times as an adult. He sighed. This time he was very guilty. Bail had been posted, but he knew nobody in his family would care enough to pay for him. He tried to convince his Mexican manager to bail him out, but his manager screamed at him, and fired him. Drake is also banned from Mexico. The Mexican government was seriously considering building a wall just to keep _Drake _out.

Drake had no shoes on. His cellmate had stolen them. He wondered how it had come to this. When did he end up alone in the world? Was it when he spent all of his money on Japanese candy and stole money from his family? Was it when he randomly moved to Mexico without telling a soul? Bullying Justin Bieber on Twitter? Was it when he drunkenly punched a policeman? Was it when his albums were banned in every school in America for containing inappropriate and disturbing lyrics and subliminal messages?

He missed high school. The good old days of 2004. Drake was popular, dated many girls, and had a bright future ahead of him as a famous hot star. He had absolutely no care whatsoever in the world. He found himself humming his song he became most famous for, _I Found a Way. _Ironically, he hadn't found a way yet. He thought back to the time a kid threw a ball at his face during his performance. The time Mrs. Hayfer nearly prevented him from graduating. He thought of all of the lies he'd told. He'd told girls that he was part werewolf, he told his mom that he'd go to college, he'd told his brother that they'd be friends forever, he'd told his sister that he wasn't the one who spilled applesauce on the kitchen floor.

Drake had just "moved forward" with his life, taken the first record deal he could, and moved to Mexico. He didn't realize that leaving people behind would really turn into people leaving him behind. Now Trevor was in rehab, his bandmates had their own careers, and Josh was…

Josh was done with Drake, yet again.

And then Drake looked up. A guard was there. "You have a visitor."

J.W.

It was Josh.

"Why."

They'd said it at the same time with the same tone. Hollow and lifeless eyes bore into each other.

Drake figured he should speak first. He was Drake after all. "You didn't invite me."

"YES I DID, DRAKE! YES I DID!"

"No!"

"I SENT YOU AN EVITE AND YOU SAID NO."

Drake was silent.

"_Well, _evites are pretty...lame."

"You _ruined _my wedding. You _ate _my wedding cake. You _drank _nearly all of the alcohol there. _Dad _is bald now. _Mindy _won't go on the honeymoon now."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry?" Drake crossed his arms, leaning forward. "What do you want me to say, huh? I'm _sorry _that the little skinny snake didn't get to hiss to his honeymoon?"

"The—_what? _Stop calling me a snake! Why did you do this to me, Drake? Why can't you accept that I am _happy! _Well, I was happy, until you RUINED it, Drake! RUINED IT!"

"Oh, please," Drake scoffed. "I didn't ruin it. Walter has been balding since before your wedding, you don't even eat wedding cake because _snakes _eat _mice_, if anything, YOU ruined MY music CAREER!"

Josh was appalled. How more delusional could Drake be? This was not the Drake Parker from 2004. This was the sad, angry Drake Parker from 2019, and he wasn't liking it at all. Where did they go wrong?

"Drake, do you genuinely believe I ruined your music career?" he whispered.  
"Drake...your music was never that great. Your prime was in 2004."

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Drake lunged.

Josh screamed. "HELP, SOMEBODY! HELP ME!" he screamed towards the police. The police glanced towards Josh before heading on their lunch break. "FINE, 2007! Before Big Time Rush!"

"I'm better than some _boy band!_"

Josh bit his tongue. It bled. "Oh, the pain!"

"Fine. I understand that this isn't 2007 anymore," Drake quietly admitted. "But I have a _huge _fanbase in Mexico! Well, before I was banned, at least. Don't you understand? I am _the _Drake Parker! My name will never be forgotten! I am _the real DRAKE"_

"Is that so?" Josh asked, with blood gushing down his face. He paid no attention to it. Drake was getting kind of disturbed. "I am kind of light-headed," Josh said. "But I know I am in the right state of mind to say this! If you're the REAL Drake, why did you show up to my wedding angry and drunk? Why do you hate me!"

"Nobody likes me anymore." Drake stated. He cried rainbow.

"Are you crying a rainbow? DRAKE, cut the act! Pride month is OVER!"

It was indeed over. Drake has to appeal to the LGBTQ+D (D for 'Drake') fanbase community. It wasn't working.

"This is getting out of hand," Josh sighed. He stood up from his chair and paced anxiously around the room. "Drake, I want you to listen to me. We _do _like you. Maybe, not as much anymore, considering how much of an asshole you can be…"

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"I said LISTEN!" Josh was so exasperated at this point. Here was his step-brother, lost and clueless as ever, still stuck in the delusion fantasy that he is still as famous as Big Time Rush.

"What?"

Josh sighed. "You're an embarrassment. You peaked in high school. You barely even graduated high school. You're completely broke and have no intention of getting a job. You have no health insurance and Mom still pays for everything, and still does your laundry, even though nobody even knows where you live."

"A trailer."

"Okay. Well...It's time to grow up."

"It's parked behind a Taco Bell."

Josh sighed. "Grow up. You're thirty-three. Drake...I'm not only embarrassed by you, I'm disappointed by you. This is _why _I can't hug ya brotha, not anymore! How am I supposed to tell my son who his uncle is when he's born?"

"Wait, what? Son? Mindy is PREGNANT?" Drake screamed. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

"Drake, wait,"

"I SAID GET OUT YOU SCUM" Drake hissed and threw a chair directly at Josh's head. The police glanced at Josh before heading out to their second lunch break.

Josh groaned in obvious pain and rolled around on the ground like a caterpillar for about thirty seconds before standing up and wobbling. "Yes, Drake. Mindy is pregnant. We are having a baby, because we want to be parents. You know. Grown-up stuff."

"Disgusting!" Drake recoiled. Josh had _sex? _What is this world coming to?

Drake picked up the chair again and threw it towards Josh, again. A few other policemen glanced at Josh before heading out to their third lunch break.

"Ok, this is so ridiculous!" Josh cried. "Can't you be happy for me? Can't we reminiscence on Taco Bell like the good old times?"

"The good old times, Josh...are over." Drake said dramatically. He then ripped off his handcuffs and walked scott-free out of the police station. Josh went running after him, screaming his name non-sexually.

J.W.


	2. Mexican Drake

After leaving the prison, Drake realized that he had nowhere to go. He had been going from hotel to hotel and couch surfing when he had no money. And yet again, he was broke. He'd declared bankruptcy, but nothing had happened. He'd yelled it as loud as he could. Still, nothing happened. He should've paid attention in that one finance class, but he was too busy selling illegal grills and throwing pieces of paper at Josh. He also had dated every girl in that class, except that one vegan girl.

Drake had contemplated getting a job, but nobody had accepted his resume. Apparently telling employers that his skills include "dating girls and playing guitar" was no longer acceptable. He'd tried to go back to The Premiere to talk to Helen, but when he did, Crazy Steve had chased him away with a wiffle ball bat. It was too traumatic to continue. Plus Helen was lowkey a pedophile. Or ephebophile. Plus, she'd been divorced more times than Ross from Friends.

Drake groaned. He called Trevor, his burnout friend.

"Hey, man. Does your mom have any more space in her basement?"

"Nah, dude. Me and my terrarium take up all the space, man."

"_Maaan."_ Drake groaned.

"We can hang on my bed. It's a twin."

"_No!_"

"'Lright."

Drake hung up. He sighed. Then he cried. He began walking to his old high school, from where he barely graduated. They only decided to allow him to graduate because they thought he would be a big rockstar, and be a good name for their school. That obviously never happened. Now the school denies he ever went there.

Drake began losing his instagram followers as well. Apparently posting pictures of random colors and fruits was beginning to alarm his fanbase. Concerned fans were flooding his instagram asking if he was okay. To get back at them, he unfollowed everybody. People were worried about Drake. They kept posting comments such as: "Drake, are you ok?", or "Where is Josh you dumb bitch?" Drake cried and immediately blocked them instead of just unfollowing them.

So he then went to Twitter and posted some dumb comment in Spanish about Drake Bell. He had to use Google translate after his Mexican manager quit on him. So he asked something along the lines of: "Drakey performy with Big Time Rush?" As Josh has mentioned Big Time Rush was FAR more popular than Drake, And Drake was sad. Drake cried after Kendall rejected his advances. He then unfollowed every member of BTR.

Chaos erupted. People were demanding to know if Drake was hacked again. People can't believe he speaks Spanish.

"Yo soy espanol," Drake commented. "Me in mucho debto. Come see me in Asbury Park, NJ."

PEOPLE WERE APPALLED. ASBURY PARK? Why couldn't he come sooner, when school wasn't around the corner? So Drakey went to Asbury Park and performed "I Found a Way" as he usually almost always does. He had to correct the lyrics for the 25932985349859384598th time. They got mad.

"NO!" Drake screamed over his few fans left. "It's REALIGN!"

They throw food at Drake. In & Out Burger smashed against Drake's sad face. Mocha Cola was dripping down his photoshopped man breasts. Drake started to cry. He was no longer the 2004 Drake. He was the wrinkled, photoshopped-abs, dispaprotional body-to-face ratio of 2019. (HE WOULDN'T ANSWER MY CALLS).

Drake spent a day answering phone calls from his burner phone. It didn't go well. People kept calling him "Daddy" and would breathe heavily in his voicemails. Drake thinks they were jacking it. He was kind of into it. He has a big ego.

Drake no longer wanted to do concerts. He'd had balls, all kinds of food, questionable liquids, spitballs, questionable solids, and blatant trash thrown in his face.

"I quit." He posted one day. Josh Peck liked and retweed it.

Drakebellrealdrake69lover posted: "NOOOOOOOOO, and immediately deactivated their account.

Drake sighed. He had no one. Josh was ignoring his calls just like he himself was ignoring his fans' calls. Maybe he should have heeded his Mexican manager's advice on not putting out personal information on public domains. Drake threw his phone into the Pacific Ocean.

"Near...Far…" Drake sighed, as tears and sweat streamed down his cheeks. "I believe that….the heart…." He sobbed hysterically. "Goes…"

As he was about to finish, he heard someone blasting "Cooking By the Book Featuring Lil Jon" on a nearby boat.

"Drake. It's me."

"Who are you?

"You don't know."

Drake did a double take. "I know no knowing of this."

The other boat turned around and left. At an unreasonably fast speed. Even the captain couldn't deal with Drake. It was gonna be a plot point but Drake ruined it.

"Goes on." Drake sighed. He threw himself into the ocean hoping to turn into a mermaid. He didn't and swam back to the boat. Now he was in the same position as a minute ago, except he was cold and wet. Drake moved his private yacht back to the shore. He should've sold it to get out of bankruptcy, but didn't wanna. He had a big ego.

Then Drake had a realization. He could sleep on the yacht! He was no hobo. He was a rich hobo. He had way less money than Josh and Miranda...Megan...but at least he had the YACHT.

Suddenly….

JW

Josh remained motionless on the bed next to his pregnant wife. Mindy was asleep. Josh had severe insomnia after Drake crashed the wedding. He was receiving death threats on a daily basis from die-hard Drake Parker fans. Which, by the way, weren't many. Some were sending him pictures of knives, just like they did to Justin Bieber. Josh was NOT okay. Josh was not some 14-year-old musician whom people could harass and send death threats to daily. He was a grown man. Unlike Drake.

Josh looked towards the full mewn. He felt the gut feeling to go and find Drake. He left his pregnant wife in the bed. The bed was unusually wet, maybe her water had broken, But he left her anyway, she can deal with the birth herself.

"J0000SSHHH! MY WATER BR00KKEE!"

"OOOOOOHHHH IM GIVING BIRTH!" Mindy cried, screaming even. "HELPE ME SHAWN - I MEAN JOSH"

Josh ignored her and followed the full mewn to find DRAKE. Josh's Wedding was beginning to get too meta on many levels. Josh knew that most of the things happening around him would be unintelligible to most people at this point. But still, Josh knew he had to go to his brother.

JW

Drake realized something as he looked at the ocean from his yacht. Finally he was on the path of self-discovery. He was ready to come out.

"I...I…" He said. "I'm transracial."

Spanish Drake. Drake Campana. It was a new strategy. A new way (he found a way) to get the media to have the spotlight on him. For his coming-out party, he posted various subtly racist Drake & Josh memes about how Drake Campana is trapped in the United States and cannot be free in Mexico, because the United States discriminates against transracial people. Josh was often portrayed as the United States as he is a fat and lazy American who gained too much baby weight even though he was not the pregnant one in the relationship.

"Hola, Drake." He said to himself. "Hola." He really needed to take Spanish lessons so that he could embrace his new identity. He also began to seek out a therapist so that he could fully transition into Mexican society.

The therapist meeting was...well, something else, to say the least.

"Mr. Parker…" the therapist began.

"No! No me Mr. Parker. Señorita Campana."

"...I believe you mean _Señor, _Drake. Why are you suddenly claiming you are Mexican?" the therapist leaned forward, curious. "You are as white as can be. Your first name is Jared, for Christ's sake."

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT NAME!" Señor Campana backhanded the therapist and spat in his face. "I AM THE REAL MEXICAN DRAKE."

"My...apologies Drake...your _official _driver's licence had said J...the other name…"

"I am DRAKE CAMPANA. I _will _get a Mexican citizenship, and Spanish lessons instead of google translate, and I will be Mexican. I will be a Mexican citizen and I will change my ethnicity too. I'll do anything it takes."

The therapist sighed. This was absolutely _not _worth his time. "Drake…" he said as gently as possible, but Drake was already gargling spit in his mouth. "You can learn Spanish, but you are not Mexican. Am I making myself clear? You cannot claim you are another ethnicity or race for the fun of it...I guess you could get a Mexican _citizenship_, but—"

"YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN ME! WHAT KIND OF THERAPIST ARE YOU?" Campana spat at the therapist's face again, threw a chair at his face, and

walked out the door. He did not pay, as he had absolutely no cash and no insurance coverage. The police were on their way...Again…

Drake began humming _I Found A Way. _It would have to do until he could learn the lyrics in Spanish. _Yo Soy A La Playa?_ No, that can't be right...

"I AM DRAAKEEEE CAMPAANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he screamed. The homeless people on the streets of LA screamed.

"_POLICE! Stop right there! _Oh, God, I know this guy. WE NEED BACKUP ASAP. CALL THE SWAT TEAM IN"

Drake gasped as the bigy helicoptys (big helicopters) flew in from overhead and descended upon Los Angeles. Drake screamed and ran as fast as he could. He had to get back home to San Diegooo!

Suddenly, Josh appeared on the scene. He and Drake were illuminated by the full moon.

"Drake...What is happening?" Josh asked. "What has happened between us for it to come to this point."

"You ruined my life," Drake spat. "I was supposed to be the hot, famous rockstar. I was overshadowed by Big Time Rush and Dan Schneider moved on to other pairs of feet. What was wrong with _me?" _he cried out.

"Drake…" Josh shook his head. "You did this to yourself! The DUI. Harassing people online. _Crashing my wedding! _Throwing items at fans in the crowd. Yelling at your own fans! You're bitter, Drake! You need help. You need a financial advisor and a therapist—"

"I DID SEE A THERAPIST! I came out as transracial and you know what my therapist said? TO LET IT GO. I'm being DISCRIMINATED AGAINST!"

"Trans..._race? _DRAKE, WHO ARE YOU?" Josh cried.

"I am no longer Drake…" he whispered. "I am Drake...Campana."

The helicopters crashed down into Los Angeles and the SWAT team, Air Force, ARMY, Navy Seals, Marines, the entirety of the US government swooped down and chased after Drake. Drake screamed and ran as fast as he could.

And then...everything went black.

JW

Once again, Drake woke up in jail. It was far from his first rodeo. He sighed. If only it could've been a Mexican prison, where he truly belonged.

"Guards! GUARDS!" Drake cried. "I want to go to Mexico."

"No, Mr. Parker, you cannot go to Mexico. The Mexican government banned you from entering, Drake."

A lightbulb went off in Drake's mind. Drake _Parker _was not allowed to

enter Mexico, but what about Drake _Campana?_

He devised a plan. He was going to buy a fake ID that said Drake Campana

and sneak into Mexico.

And he was going to bring a certain someone with him. Bebe Josh.

He had to escape out of this stupid American high security maximum protection absolutely no escape prison.

He slid a copy of his mixtape under the prison...door? And the guards picked it up, and played the horrendous acoustic version of _i found a way. _The guards screamed in horror (they were Big Time Rush fans) and ran away to stop the bleeding from their ears.

That was Drake's signal to go. He used his trans-Mexican willpower to bust through the prison door with Quincinera strength. "AYE AYE AUE AYE LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOO" Campanaa ran and ran and soon he busted out of prison. He decided he would become Mexican at any cost. He would sacrifice anything to achieve this dream.


	3. Drake's Life Matters :(

**A/N: Wanted to take the time to say thanks to our reviewers! Thank you to CHOOSELIFE, supersaiyangoku065768, and Colorful and Free! We really appreciate it and enjoy reading your reveiws. Thank you so much. :"")**

**Also shout out to josh peck! (you're not supposed to understand, it's okay). To, savageverse, I know! :) Thank you! **

**To Um/Oof, if your biggest concern right now is the content of this story, I'm very happy for you! Thanks for adding three reviews to my review count! We appreciate the support :) You alone inspired us to come back and write another chapter.**

**(Also, we've been Drake Bell fans for 15 years lol, this story is just satire. Like South Park. Also, if you draw the line at satire and not the incest and p*dophilia, and child abuse in this fandom, that's your call!) **

Despite always being out of the loop, even Drake had learned of the pandemic plaguing so many people. The recent news of the coronavirus has spread like wildfire. Drake was not alarmed, though. The show must go on, and his tour to Mexico will _not _be cancelled! He suckled the sweet liquid from his bottle. _Mmmmmm, Corona. _Now he'd be immune.

And then the _unthinkable _happened: his tour was cancelled. The police had caught onto his plans. The guards at the border were not amused when Drake–––clad in a sombrero–––had tried to casually walk over to Mexico. Somehow, he managed to escape from yet another prison, though how he was able to is unknown. There was no end to how offensively, stereotypically, and absolutely disgustingly Drake would act.

"Mr. Bell...uh, Parker!"

"It's _Señorita _Drake _Campana!_"

The guard sighed. "That's not what you—nevermind. Mr. _Campana, _you are not allowed to go into Mexico. Have you not heard of the coronavirus? Also, please stand a little further away."

Drake seethed with rage. He has been drinking plenty of Coronas; the _real _Drake would never succumb to this epidemic!

"You _WILL _let me go into Mexico. Get _OUT _of my way!" Drake whacked the guards with his sombrero, and ran.

"DRAKE, Mexico has banned you, along with all of you Americans. We don't want this virus to spread."

"I am _Mexican. _I AM! Do not call me an American. NO Hablo In-glissh."

"Drake, you are not Mexican! How many times do we have to explain this?"

Drake was promptly tranquilized. "Nooo. NOOOOO." He panted, vision going blurry. "Feliz…..Feliz Navidad."

He woke up a couple hours later, strapped to a seat in the economy class, with virtually no one else in the plane. He was headed back towards ? the prison ? Drake honestly had no clue. The prison had become his new home. He wondered if Josh would bail him out for a tenth time.

He decided to post on Instagram the devastating news about his Mexican fiesta tour being cancelled because of the coronavirus. He also pinned the blame of the coronavirus solely on Josh Nichols.

"Señor Joshua Necko es tu responsible for the _CORONAVIRUS! _He is why my tour is cancelled! How will I escape my debt now?"

His comments were flooded with hate about him cancelling the tour. His so-called fans demanded refunds.

(Drake is not giving back refunds).

"I don't care that you can't attend my tour!" He shouted during his Insta live. "I'm not refunding your ticket, _no es refundo! Comprende? _Also buy my steaks." He then ended the livestream. Hundreds of so-called fans unfollowed him.

Josh proceeded to roast him on Twitter. "Drake is really not refunding his fans because of the Coronavirus? #stupido"

Drake then blocked him on Twitter. He had already blocked Josh on every other social media platform. Even TikTok.

He had to formulate a new plan. The coronavirus could not stop him from receiving money. Maybe he could dupe his fans into paying his debts in other ways?

Maybe it was time to try the "Call Me If You're Lonely" promotion for a second time, but make the line an 800 number so that he could profit. Or maybe Drake could become a phonesex operator. His so-called "Lost Album" he has been promoting on Instagram has not generated enough profit...partially because Drake had ended up losing the Lost Album. He had left it in the last car he had, and then he had lost said car. There was nothing he could do now. He had to throw away his burner phone, because people kept calling him Daddy.

COVID-19 was stealing his spotlight. Just as Josh had wronged him, this virus was wronging him too. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to kill this virus. At all costs. He sipped another corona in his jail cell. Somehow the prison guards hadn't found his stash of Coronas buried under the floorboards. Or the stash of Lime-A-Ritas.

He placed an order for On the Border—only the most authentic Mexican food for Drake Parker...Campana. He didn't know why he chose that last name. It meant Bell in English, but he thought it meant Parker. He shrugged, blaming the discrepancy on Google Translate. As he was waiting for his delivery, he began to think as to what could possibly kill the virus.

"Guards! Guards! I need to make a phone call." Drake said. His On the Border delivery arrived. (Drake did not tip the delivery driver).

"Who do you want to call? Also, hey — Stop ordering food!"

"I need to make a call to...to...the _real _Josh Peck...Josh...Nichols…Josh Nichols-Crenshaw...Josh…._the Snake_…He goes by many names. If anyone knows how to kill the coronavirus, it's him. I could then take credit for it and receive money for curing the coronavirus. My debt would be solved forever!"

As a side note, Drake had thought of buying up all of the hand sanitizer and toilet paper and selling it for a profit, but some other psychopath had already done that. Killing the coronavirus once and for all could be his new claim to fame. Only the _real _Drake...Drake Campana...could do this. It was his destiny.

The guards (with a sigh) gave him the phone. As Drake was munching on his spicy queso and chip, he called Josh Peck.

The problem is, the call went straight to voicemail.

"_Josh! _I know you're home and feeding the baby! You better pick up soon. I know you have the cure for the coronavirus, and I want to steal the credit—I _mean, _I'm in. Call me back ASAP."

Drake began to cry. What was he going to do if Josh never returned the call?

~JW~

Drake awoke in his cell. He may have gotten a little too tipsy last night. He drank all of the Coronas and Lime-A-Rita's. There was also smeared queso on his face from his On the Border binge.

He scrambled up, crying out "Guards! Guards! Did Josh Pecky-boy return my call?"

"Yes, _Campana. _Josh left a voicemail for you."

"_Drake," _the voicemail began with a heavy sigh. "_First of all, I do not have the cure to the coronavirus. Secondly, you need to stop trying to escape from your cell. There's this whole thing called social-distancing that you should be practicing. It should be EASIER for you since you're supposed to be in jail. Stop being an idiot, because you could be endangering other people. Drake, I'm so serious, this is not a joke."_

Drake threw up all over the phone. Getting preached to by his snake of a step-brother was just too much for his hungover mind.

"Were you really fucking _drinking _in your cell?" The guard spat.

A lightbulb went off in Drake's mind. He had an idea.

"_Yes," _he breathed. "_Yes, I did! _And you know what else? I just puked on my phone. You better get out of way and practice this social distancing Josh Pecky Chicken Boy has been preaching about! _HIIISSSSSSSSAssaSSAAAAAAAAS"_

Drake inched closer to the guards. The guards jumped 6 feet back. "_Ew! _You smell disgusting, Drake! We need to put you in solitary confinement. This cartoony nonsense has to stop immediately. This is not some shitty slapstick Nickelodeon show!"

The guards slowly opened the cell door, and that's when Drake leaped. Igniting his self-proclaimed trans-Mexican willpower, he barreled through the guards, and escaped. The other cellmates were screaming in fear (no one wants Drake free on the streets).

Drake then busted out of the prison with absolute ease. "_YES! FREEDOM!"_ He chugged his remaining Corona and threw the bottle at a guard. "AAAAARRRIIIBA!"

He then stole a police car and put the most important address into the GPS:

Josh's house.

"This is a national _EMERGENCY!" _ The radio in the police car blasted. "Forget the coronavirus, _DRAKE PARKER-CAMPANA-WHATEVER IS FREE ON THE STREETS! EVERYONE REMEMBER THE PROTOCOL. HE HAS A POLICE CAR."_

Drake laughed at the radio. Yes! He has the media's attention again! Finally he was back in the spotlight.

He sped to California. Josh Nichols, here he comes.

He sped 100 MPH in a 25 MPH school zone (thank GOD the school happened to be closed, due to corona of course), so he reached Josh's house pretty quickly. He ignored the children's screams and parked his car on the curb of Josh's house. He may or may have not ruined his front lawn. He still had trouble with parking.

"Am I close enough to the curb?" he asked himself. He inspected the fact his car was literally on top of the curb of Josh's sidewalk.

"Nah, not close enough." He then got into his car and decided to drive his car through Josh's house, nearly killing a squirrel. He didn't have the best rep with animals. This was the dolphin incident all over again. He just wanted a ride! Fortunately, the squirrel's reflexes saved him, and then he took revenge on his would-be-murderer. The squirrel bit Drake on the hand and refused to release its grip.

"AY AY GET IT OUT!" Drake cried. The squirrel, tiring of this, eventually released his bite on the rock star criminal. Then he found asylum in a nearby tree.

Drake, now half-parked in Josh's house, couldn't open the car door. He ignored the whiplash he'd experienced from literally crashing into a wall. This whole experience reminded him of the time Mrs. Hayfer's stupid car was stuck in the classroom. Then, he heard footsteps. It was Mindy Crenshaw. Mindy Nichols? He didn't really know what they did about last names, or if they even continued the wedding after he was escorted away. Crenshaw was a type of melon, wasn't it? That made sense…Josh still had a melon-like head.

"_Drake! _Get out of my house! I just gave birth, and I don't have the patience. Josh isn't here, so just get out of here!" It was Mindy after all.

"First of all," Drake smashed his car door through Mindy's fireplace, "Brad is racist. Second, I need to speak with Josh about the coronavirus."

"_Why? _Wait, who is Brad—"

"I _NEED TO SPEAK WITH JOSH!"_ He busted through the car's rooftop, leaving glass all over the floor. He stepped onto the glass and bit through the pain because he's invincible. He's Drake.

"God...Alright, but you better make this quick, Drake," Mindy rolled her eyes and left the (destroyed) living room. "Josh! Your idiot brother is here!"

Josh, who had returned home minutes ago, made his appearance. "Drake...why did you...seriously? Dude, I'm gonna sue you."

"I GOT BITTEN BY YOUR STUPID PET SQUIRREL, and I need to cure this CORONA virus."

"_DRAKE! _You could have rabies! Go to the hospital!"

"NO, I don't have money for the hospital...or the in...insurgence? In sure ance?"

"_Insurance, _Drake! _INSURANCE!"_

"Yeah, whatever that is. Can my fans pay for it?"

Josh sighed. He had no more words. He picked up his phone and promptly dialed 911.

~JW~

Drake the "criminal" now found himself in a hospital. Somehow he managed to not contract rabies. Josh sighed. Now he had to quarantine with Drake, Mindy, and his son Xam, pronounced Sam.

"Aw, look at baby little Ham!" Drake cooed when he arrived at his NEW home.

"It's pronounced _Sam, _Drake!"

"Whatever, Josh. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to take a much-needed rest on my new couch. Mindy, make me some dinner".

"Why, I oughta!"

"Yes you should." Drake ignored Josh's grumbling and flopped onto their couch. He opened Instagram, as he usually does, and decided to go live. He whipped out his guitar and began signing "Fuego Lento" for over an hour. Every fan aged twelve to forty seemed to request it. They all would squeal and throw their phones on the floor in excitement every time Drake crooned the song. Even if he forgot the words sometimes.

"I hate him," Josh muttered to Mindy. "He's such a _child_."

"He will only be with us for a little while, Josh," Mindy promised. "We will just use earplugs whenever he sings Fuego Lento."

"How did this happen? Why couldn't he just respond yes to the evite?"

"Josh, you invited him?"

"YES!"

"I didn't want him there!"

Drake went into the kitchen, growing impatient for his meal. He pulled out all of the steaks from the freezer and threw them into a pan. He was a master chef on top of being a top tier musician, along with being a celebrity guest star of Celebrities Underwater. At least he dove in head-first, _damnit. _It wasn't fair that some B-list celebrity scored higher than him on his dive. Drake hissed, mimicking the sound of the steak.

"Drake...what are you doing?"

"Cooking steak."

"Why is it smoking?"

"Everyone has a vice, Josh!" Drake scoffed. Maybe he should've actually defrosted the steak before throwing it into boiling oil. But, hey. It wasn't his fault that it caught on fire. Hindsight was 2020, after all. Josh didn't laugh when he said this aloud.

~JW~

"I am an advocate now," Josh announced, while Mindy was feeding baby Sam some applesauce.

"Josh?" Mindy blatantly ignored his announcement. "Is there any applesauce left?"

"No, but I could've sworn I bought a new pack a couple days ago. Unless…" he glared towards Drake, who emerged into the kitchen with applesauce smeared all over his face and shirt.

"Hey Josh! Hey little Ham!" Drake cooed, dipping his finger into his applesauce.

"Drake! Please take your fingers out of my son's snack!"

"What? Sharing is caring," Drake licked the sauce off of his finger. "What did you post on Instagram?"

"I posted artwork in order to emphasize my activism in light of recent events."

"Oh, I've been silent for weeks." Drake replied. "People already hate me for being trans-Mexican, and I know I'm going to say something insensitive like I did when Caitlyn Jenner came out. I got enough death threats from Beliebers back in 2012. Don't need any more. Also, some fan with the initials UM posted #DrakesLifeMatters on a fanfic about me, and I've already gotten backlash."

Hate comments flooded Josh's insensitive post. Josh was not good at reading the room. He could feel the twitch coming back.

"Maybe you should've just donated money since you're loaded, Josh." Drake said, "Didn't you just get a ton of money from universities to go talk to depressed students?"

"Shut up, Drake! As if _you _have the right to lecture me as to how to demonstrate my activism? You are completely bankrupt! You've had _two _DUIs AND, you're on house arrest! In _my _house!"

"Well," Drake now stole Little Ham's applesauce and was eating it all for himself. "At least I know to keep my mouth shut and not be present on Instagram or Twitter for weeks. #DrakesLifeMatters."

Mindy scowled in disgust. "Xam, if you turn out to be like these nimrods, I'm going to be so disappointed." Mindy looked at the step-brothers. "Can you guys please realize that this is a serious and complex issue? And that you both have enough white privilege to make a difference. And money?"

Drake opened his mouth.

"YOU'RE NOT MEXICAN."

Drake cried.


	4. Drake is Cancelled

**A/N: CW for mentioned abuse**

**Hey, readers. If you haven't heard of the abuse allegations regarding Drake Bell, we'd recommend you look it up before proceeding (if you feel safe to do so).**

**We really loved writing what was supposed to be a humorous take on what happens to the D&J cast—inspired from the infamous Josh's Wedding ordeal—but what's transpired lately has really sickened us. We were fans for quite some time, but not anymore. This story was supposed to be satire and poking fun at some of the outlandish things Drake has done both irl and in the show, but abuse is ****not ****a joke. Thus, this will be the last chapter of the fic. **

**We want to thank our reviewers again for enjoying this story. We're sad it's now coming to end, but since this has happened, we wouldn't feel right continuing to parody Drake and ignore the situation going on. (Also, we want to address that the Drakeslifematters joke is intended to be a clowning on ALM and that Drake's being "transracial" was not meant to invalidate trans identities, but to paint Story Drake as insensitive & ignorant) We never thought the story would end like this, We'd always joke that we'd wait to see what he'd do next to inspire us—which is sad looking back. **

**Anyway, thank you so much for your support. 3**

**-FoF and Maddie**

#drakeiscancelled

_I put my pajamas on._

Hastily, Drake Campana threw on his red onesie. He has been willingly quarantining at Josh Nichols' house for the past month (even though Josh has requested Drake to leave multiple times), and frankly, has been living the life. This COVID-19 pandemic gave Drake the perfect excuse to do absolutely nothing all day but go live on Instagram and sing exclusively to his underage audience. He also ate all of Baby Xam's food and had Mindy convinced it was a ghost.

_I turn the TV on! _

Drake slobbered a bowl of applesauce (that was clearly Baby Xam's) as he turned on the TV. He stretched onto the couch, yawning.

Life was good for Drake.

He tore open a package. It was addressed to Josh, but that was because he used Josh's credit card. It was a set of Disney-themed pajamas. He grinned and changed his pajamas. Then suddenly, he heard his own name on the TV.

_Hot Lisa? _

_Carly?_

_Rachel?_

_Tori?_

_And...what even was her name?_

Drake slouched back onto his step-brother's couch.

_I'm never gonna go outside. _

_Never gonna go outside again._

His victims had come forward. He thought his fame would protect him. But now instead of famous he was infamous. Infamous for crashing Josh's wedding all of those months ago. Infamous for the DUIs. Infamous for the bullying he'd done on Twitter.

Infamous for the way he'd treated his exes.

And others.

But Drake refused to remember it that way. He was the _real _Drake. Surely his fanbase would understand him?

Clearly, that one girl wanted to wrestle, after all. At least from his perspective. He couldn't understand—those kids had watched it happen! Even though Megan said it didn't. Even though Mindy's parents were disgusted.

But they'd fought too!

Josh said he'd imagined it.

He hadn't _cheated _on Tori. He only threatened to. Told her she was worthless.

He'd only screamed that Hot Lisa was dumb in public. He'd only said it to her mother on live television. He'd only grabbed her a few times. It was only a few bruises. Only a sprain.

And Carly...well...why did he have to take no for an answer anyway? He was Drake!

Then, Eric.

He had punched Eric after he'd ruined Drake's reputation. He had called Craig and Eric a number of words after they'd come out as a couple. But, it shouldn't have been a big deal! He was popular, after all. He had every right to—

"_...abusive."_

He had every right to be violent, to be drunk behind the wheel, in public, in his home with any girl. He—

"_...took advantage of…"_

It wasn't his fault those kids threw water bottles and balls during his concert!

It wasn't his fault that celebrities looked like a bitch!

"_I thought he was genuine…"_

"I'm never gonna go outside again." Drake mumbled to himself. Then he laughed. "I'm never gonna go outside!" He sang. "I'm never gonna go outside again!" He shrieked. He threw a shoe at the TV, shattering the glass, and went to go down whatever alcohol Josh had lying around.

He used the applesauce as a mixer because he has a sensitive stomach. Surely, these pure _allegations _against him would dissipate...right?

_Who would believe them over ME?_

Some time has passed. Drake's alcoholism was resurfacing as he downed shot after shot of apple sauce vodka. He rolled off of the couch, screaming at Mindy to cook him some lunch.

"That's _IT!_" Josh screamed. "Drake! I'm tired of you! Yeah, you heard me! And stop eating my son's food!"

Drake blubbered something about apple sauce and stumbled into the kitchen.

Josh immediately unfollowed him on Instagram. _Something's not right here, _he thought to himself. At this time of day, Drake is usually on Tik Tok. So why was he wasted instead?

Until he realized...Drake's Tik Tok no longer exists.

"_Mindy,_" Josh whispered. "Something's going on here. Why would Drake delete his Tik Tok?"

"Either he insulted someone on Twitter or…" Mindy paused as she was scrolling on her phone. "Oh...my _God._"

Mindy handed Josh her phone and he saw for himself as to what exactly the controversy was Drake landed himself into this time.

And as Josh read, any ounce of respect he had for Drake was lost. It didn't matter if nothing was proven yet—was he really surprised?

Drake, meanwhile, was passed out on the kitchen floor, with apple sauce smeared all over his body. Like absolute trash because he is a trash man. No—that's an insult to everyone in a sanitation career. Josh didn't mean it that way. He is trash. Actually, even that is an insult to _trash. _He sighed. Drake is irredeemable.

Why hasn't Josh realized this before?

"I'm never gonna go outside..._GO OUTSIDE!" _Drake screamed.

"Mindy...take Xam upstairs." Josh whispered. "It's time...It's time to take out the _trash."_

Mindy went upstairs with baby Xam as Josh charged into the kitchen. He may have upset some people on Instagram lately, but it pales in comparison to what Drake has done.

His step-brotha no more.

"Drake! Ewugh—why do you reek! Get up and get out of my house! You're far past quarantining!"

"_NO! _Josh...Señor...Yo soy never gonna go...a la playa...outside...again….." he slurred in broken Spanish.

Josh picked his brother up and put him outside.

"You're never coming inside my house again, Drake. You're going back to jail where you belong."

Josh popped three of the tires on Drake's already destroyed car just in case his unconscious step-"brother" ended up waking up. He decided to slash the steering wheel as well because knowing Drake, he would try to drive with one tire anyway. He hesitantly called the police. In some cases, there would be better lines to call to avoid escalating a situation, he'd learn, but this was Drake. This was white Jared Drake who had gotten away with pretending to be a transracial superstar, profiting off of peaking early in life, and harming many others on his way up. Whether he was insulting people on Twitter, screaming at people on TV, or bullying _Josh himself, _it was sickening. Not to mention what he'd learned about Drake's true colors.

He deserved jail at the very least. For all of the abuse he'd committed. Those people deserved justice.

His stomach churned as he realized he'd allowed this dangerous man into his son's life. He cried as Drake was handcuffed for the umpteenth time and was taken away. Something told Josh that this wasn't going to be a cartoony occurrence where Drake magically escaped. This was it.

There would be no breaking a hole in the prison wall.

There would be no coronas and lime-a-ritas to aid him. Not even a delivery from On The Border.

There would be no more helicopter chases. No more stolen police cars.

They weren't Drake and Josh anymore, after all. Josh was done. For real, this time—and apparently, he should have _stayed _done with his narcissistic step-brother, considering much of this was going on during the peak of their friendship. Why didn't he say anything back in 2007? Why? He'd had some suspicions, but—

Too little, too late.

This was the end. He watched as Drake screamed incoherently. He didn't know if it was English or his ...interesting version of Spanish. He heard Drake attempt to sing Fuego Lento to the police only to be tazed.

The policeman was not some teenage girl who could be taken advantage of.

Now Josh knew that police brutality was a genuine issue, but he couldn't help feeling that Drake deserved it.

He was just Josh now. He had his wedding. He had his wife and son. He had his weird YouTuber friends. He made a note to text Megan. Perhaps he should have asked her for assistance on taking down Drake, but her pranking days were long behind her. She'd adopted foster pets in her spare time. Real ones. Not virtual ones like Toby. He could only pray Drake never tried anything with her.

Josh sighed. He contemplated calling Audrey and Walter, though they were divorced now, but he figured he'd just wait. He'd take a deep breath and cry, because his brother turned out much worse than he'd thought.

He thought his outburst at his wedding and roasting him on Twitter was all for attention, not narcissism. He'd thought the DUIs were from mistakes, not alcoholism. He'd thought the violence was a sort of slapstick humor that they'd grown up with. He'd thought—so many things…but it didn't matter now.

"Drake Parker" was far past his prime. Perhaps one day he would show his son the show—he was proud of it; after all, it _was _how Josh's career truly skyrocketed after the show with skits he was a part of as a kid. His theater camp! But as for Drake himself?

He was done.

He watched the multiple police cars (and trailing helicopter) fade into the distance. At least his family was now safe.

"_Adios, _Jared Drake. _Adios."_


End file.
